


looking back on a death wish

by independentalto



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, more time travelling, references to 4x02, robbie is here but only in the memories, there's a lot of inner demons for daisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentalto/pseuds/independentalto
Summary: Against all odds, a mystery artefact takes Daisy, Kora and Sousa back on one last time-travelling adventure -- back to 2016 and back to Daisy's first encounter with Ghost Rider.She'd never expected for them to seethispart of her past.
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 19
Kudos: 112





	looking back on a death wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maxiefae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxiefae/gifts).



> written for the prompt "christ, i missed you so much" and "fancy seeing you here" thanks so much for the prompt!

The first thing Daisy was able to register when she came to was the  _ heat.  _ One, the last place she could remember being was a ridiculously cold, sterile lab area, grabbing onto a rock floating in an energy field in the hopes that it would do something...anything, really, to save her from the converging soldiers. 

Maybe she’d thought she would quake it, throw it…? Either way, as soon as she’d laid a hand on it, a beam had shot out of a center she hadn’t thought existed, seemingly scanning the room before enveloping her in a bright light. It was the last thing she remembered before she’d ended up...well, wherever here was. 

The sound of rubber tires against concrete shrieked loudly somewhere in the distance, and, groaning, Daisy clambered to her feet only for her vision to catch onto a rustically lit sign advertising Canelo’s Auto and Body. So that answered the  _ where  _ – Daisy didn’t think she would be back here anytime in the next decade or two – hopefully she didn’t have to answer the  _ when.  _

_ SLAM.  _

A harried figure stormed out of the main building of the shop, dark leather jacket glinting in the light of the sun. Daisy didn’t have to squint to know it was Robbie, and her stomach sank in tandem with the shaking of the building he’d just exited from. She wasn’t – she couldn’t be – she thought they’d put time travel to rest after the last jump from 1983 – 

Younger Daisy stumbled out, right arm clutched in pain, and older Daisy’s heart couldn’t help but sink in pity. She’d been consumed in a whole host of emotions then, self-hatred and grief manifesting in a visible repel against pity or any form of aid. Losing Lincoln then had been almost like drowning, being offered a lifeline only to have it cruelly yanked out of her reach. 

_ “Do it,” she’d panted, a few mere seconds from the then-unknown Ghost Rider dropping a piece of scaffolding onto her and extinguishing her entire existence. “I deserve it.”  _

Older Daisy didn’t know whether she could tangibly interact with the elements of this world, and she wasn’t keen on finding out, but if she could’ve, she would’ve wrapped that younger Daisy in the tightest hug known to man in that brief moment. Younger Daisy deserved to know everything turned out just fine, that while the light at the end of the tunnel was minuscule at the moment, it would eventually grow wide enough for her to venture through it. 

(And possibly that she would end up losing the chunky necklaces. Older Daisy snorted to herself. What a  _ choice  _ she’d made.)

She watched younger Daisy fly unsteadily through the air on her vibrations, the bones in her right arm tingling in recognition of the pain she’d put them through (they’d never quite recovered after the long exposure she’d given them without her gauntlets) before blowing out a long stream of air. 

Obviously, time had gone on – they’d collaborated with Ghost Rider, Coulson had taken  _ on  _ the Ghost Rider before it’d burned through the rest of what kept him alive, people had been born and killed and identities taken on in shapes she dare not remember – but Daisy’d never really forgotten the broken fragments of herself in that moment, the desperation in which she’d grabbed onto any of the leads offered to her that would offer salvation, death or anything in between. 

Religion had never been an actively significant part of her life ( _ “Have faith,”  _ Elena had said, her cross in Lincoln’s palm burned into the forefront of her mind, the Sunday sermons of hell and repentance a chant engraved into the crevices of her skull) but Daisy had a grim feeling that believer or not, there had been some greater being watching that’d kept her alive past the initial confrontation with Robbie. 

Alive long enough, at the very least, to ensure that she saw the happiness of everyone she loved and to finally, permanently get a taste of her own. Seeing her younger self was a reminder that nothing was permanent – and while her standing here now proved that grief didn’t last forever, it was a black streak across her mostly sunny visage that happiness didn’t either. The other shoe had to drop, and if Daisy’s time in foster homes had taught her anything still, it was that it always did when she least expected it. 

She was happy now, sure – she had Daniel and Kora and a Zephyr of her own to command, she had (most of) all of her family members safe, sound and in places she could pop in on them whenever she wanted – but who was to say all of that wouldn’t disappear in an instant? Who was to say that she hadn’t just been insanely lucky for the last year or so? 

Daisy could paint over her past all she wanted, cover it in trauma processed and tucked away, but there always remained the fact that it existed and had been the root of so many things flourishing in her life today.  _ It’s a miracle your past hasn’t come back for the most recent important figures in your life,  _ a voice in her head sneered.  _ Especially since it’s already come for everyone else.  _

“Shut the  _ fuck _ up,” she whispered, and a family of three passed by with the mother giving her a scandalized look as she covered her children’s ears. It’d been a while since the voices in her head had come to play – the mini version of Jemma told her that it was most likely a reaction to being confronted with a younger version of herself, of pulling the curtain back on all of her demons. 

Well, as long as she was in 2016, she was going to deal with seeing her 2016 self the way she knew many people would be dealing with 2016 come fall – a nice, stiff drink. 

It’d gotten rid of the demons before, and she would make sure as hell it worked to get rid of their embers now. 

* * *

“Sousa,” Kora whispered when she came to. They’d woken up in some sort of wooden shed, tools scattered everywhere and a prone body tied up in the corner. She hadn’t taken the time to examine it closely (encountering a dead body was the  _ last  _ thing she wanted to put on her list of achievements), instead focusing on the man unconscious beside her. “ _ Sousa!”  _

Sousa still wasn’t responding, and there were footsteps about to enter the shed. A flash of white caught Kora’s eye, and she managed to seize the sheet and drape it over the both of them, a hole in it providing a handy vantage point as a man entered the room, picking up a few tools while occasionally glancing over at the figure tied up in the chair. 

It didn’t take long for the figure to stir, and when Kora finally got a good look at their face, it took everything she had not to make a sound. Because staring back at her, a few years younger and a full face of goth makeup, was Daisy. Daisy. Her technical biological sister but also not quite sister Daisy.  _ What the actual fuck –  _

_ “I’ve seen a lot of breaks,” _ – oh, the man was speaking –  _ “Your arm is fractured, not broken.”  _ He paid no attention to when Daisy began struggling, choosing instead to turn back to his work.  _ “Keep trying to bust out of that, I can’t guarantee it’ll stay that way.”  _

_ “What are you doing?”  _

_ “Looking for proof.”  _ Kora’s brow scrunched.  _ Proof? What kind of proof?  _ And why did looking for proof involve kidnapping Daisy?  _ “You see, this is new for me. I’ve never been…”  _

_ “A kidnapper?”  _ Daisy-but-not-Daisy spat, and she was surprised at the amount of vitriol that was present in the woman’s voice. Not only the hate that was directed towards their mystery man, but the hate that seemed to be directed at herself. Hatred at being kidnapped, hatred at being discovered for whatever proof the man was looking for?

_ “Caught,”  _ The mystery deepened.  _ “You know who I am, which is a problem. For both of us.”  _ Whoever he was, his problem was about to quadruple, Kora snorted. Assuming their tangible presence affected the time they were in (the rules of time travel were still somewhat foggy, despite the extensive traveling she’d done), it now made  _ three  _ people who’d figured out this man’s identity.  _ “A problem that has to go away.”  _

Before Kora could even  _ think  _ about it, her palms were already tingling, the sheet they’d been using for cover beginning to smoke slightly. If they noticed the inflammation, neither not-Daisy nor the mystery man noticed. Sousa apparently did, however, and it was enough to stir him from the depths of the temporary beyond. 

“What the…” 

“Shhh!” The man currently holding not-Daisy captive could be the Savior of Worlds for all she knew, but there was absolutely no way he was going to lay a hand on her sister. Not on her watch. “I think we’re seeing a younger version of Daisy,” she explained, watching Sousa’s eyes go wide. “Yeah, I know, time travel. Who would’ve thunk it, right? Although I don’t think we’ve gone too far back this time.” 

Daniel just sighed and began to search for another hole in the sheet.  _ “Threaten me all you want,”  _ rasped not-Daisy’s voice, dragging Kora’s attention to the hole once more.  _ “You think I’m afraid to die?”  _

_ “I think you want it.”  _ Cold jolted down Kora’s spine, and she sat up a little straighter. Daisy? Want to die? This had to be some brainwashing, the Daisy she knew would never –  _ “No doubt. You got a death wish, coming back to find me after I let you live.”  _ The man turned and shuffled through a few papers while confusion and horror loomed simultaneously in Kora’s chest.  _ “You told me not to. Said you deserved it. I’m just looking for proof that you do.”  _

_ “And then?”  _

Beside her, Sousa inhaled sharply, and she knew the same things were running through their heads. Much of Daisy’s past had been revealed to them one night after an emotionally-taxing conversation and more than a few bottles of whiskey; neither of them were strangers to the fact that her baggage was heavier than most. 

It was only now that Kora realized that they’d learned about  _ events  _ of Daisy’s past – they hadn’t learned a damn thing about the consequences it’d had on her. Her sister had said nothing of the grief, nothing of the regret and self-hatred that seemed to be coating her words at this very moment. She couldn’t imagine holding something so heavily, so forcefully internalized that it’d re-externalized itself as a death wish. 

_ “My problem goes away, and your wish comes true.”  _

“I wish we could just figure out what  _ year  _ it was,” Sousa whispered, and she nodded. “We could figure out how to get back to Zephyr Three, see if we have any topside allies waiting for us.” Finding out the year would also conveniently help them put this situation into the context of Daisy’s timeline (or what they knew of, at least)...they weren’t  _ curious  _ per se, but Kora wouldn’t deny if there was a small part that yearned to understand what her sister had been through. 

_ “You’ve got ghosts haunting you. Something in your past you can’t live with.”  _

_ “Haunting me?”  _ not-Daisy echoed.  _ “This coming from the guy who thinks he’s possessed.”  _

_ “I prayed for vengeance. I got it. You? Fighting to right every wrong, all the while begging to be taken out.”  _ The man held up a photo, and there was a slight scuffle to catch a glimpse of it when the sight of it made not-Daisy’s eyes widen incrementally.  _ “Seems to me your thing is serving penance.”  _

Kora could tell from the quick shock of dirty blonde hair that the subject of the photo was Lincoln Campbell, a fellow Inhuman and guardian of Afterlife. And, she recalled with a pang of sadness, one of the only other men Daisy had truly loved with a full heart. He’d died some four years ago, Daisy had told them, an ‘irresponsible hero’s death’ in which he’d sacrificed himself to take out an ancient being named Hive. 

She knew the nightmares still plagued Daisy sometimes, rose them all in the middle of the night occasionally when they got too horrific, knew that they spent more nights than were healthy sitting in the cockpit in complete silence but in an unspoken grateful company. 

But she’d never known how badly her sister had pined for death, had gone so far to believed she deserved it, had quite literally asked it of a being whose occupation (according to Daisy) hinged on determining who lived and who died. A pang shot through her heart, and unconsciously, she reached to squeeze Sousa’s shoulder. There was a very good chance that the Daisy they were seeing was the Daisy who’d just witnessed the love of her life at the time go up into a fiery ball in space, who’d left SHIELD out of self-hatred and recklessness and the need to sit in the guilt she’d mired.

It was a Daisy they’d never been meant to see, and yet, here they were, firsthand witnesses to one of the most painful periods of her life.  _ Without  _ her. Something about it felt wrong, and while Kora yearned to simply shut her eyes and block out the image before her, if only to tell Daisy she hadn’t bore witness to it, hadn’t chosen to see her sister so vulnerable and broken, she had no choice to continue peeping through the hole. Their escape depended on it. 

_ “And who knows what kind of weapon they stole from the energy lab in Pasadena.”  _ Not-Daisy was speaking again.  _ “Still haven’t been able to dig up any infor…” _

_ “Wait. What did you say?”  _ the man asked, and Sousa tensed. Things were about to come to a head – they needed to be able to escape as best as possible. 

_ “Momentum Alternative Energy Lab,”  _ not-Daisy said, confusion evident in her voice.  _ “Printout right there in your hands. Best I can tell, that’s where they stole the weapon from. Wait. Does that mean something to you?”  _ she pleaded as new life seemed to infuse into the man, and he was suddenly pressing duct tape to not-Daisy’s mouth before striding out of...wherever they were with renewed vigor.  _ “Robbie! No!”  _

Through it all, Kora suppressed a snort. So  _ that  _ was the Ghost Rider. He really did look different when his skull wasn’t morphing into flames. 

_ “Robbie!”  _ There were a few rumbles before the ropes holding not-Daisy together broke apart, then a few more cracks as Daisy staggered to her feet. Holding her arm, she yanked the duct tape off of her mouth before making her way outside, expression set into a grim line. 

Sousa all but threw the sheet off of them, both of them following behind at a safe distance until they saw not-Daisy grit her teeth for the last time before quaking herself into the air and onto the roof of Robbie’s car. 

The both of them watched in mild trepidation, the woman of fire and the man out of time helpless to chase after Ghost Rider and Quake. “Don’t think that’s something we should touch,” Sousa said, and Kora nodded in agreement. “Best option is to try and find Daisy – present Daisy – and see about the best way to regroup with SHIELD.

“Don’t think we have to look too far for that.” She nodded towards a figure about a block down, their presence striking in the bright sunlight. They watched as the figure swung open a door to their left, the light-up marquee above it reading ‘Wally’s’. “Think we’re all gonna need a drink, honestly.” 

“Yeah.” Then, as if realizing something, Sousa squinted at Kora. “You’re not...can you…?” 

She stared back at him incredulously. “Just how young do you think I am?” 

* * *

_ Goddamn  _ Inhuman metabolism. 

Daisy stared blearily at the bottles in front of her, the hazy light and blurriness of her vision making it hard to keep track of the glasses that currently sat on the table. If this had been any normal night, there would be a veritable gang of people she loved around her – Elena, maybe, throwing back shots with abandon as she laughed with Mack in the corner, Bobbi and Hunter bantering over vodka, May if she chose to venture from the cockpit. Coulson – the  _ real  _ Coulson – smiling over at the chaos he’d created with a drink in his hand, she on her way to drag him into the kerfuffle. 

_ Trip, toasting to beers with Hunter and Mack. Lincoln, nursing a root beer and ribbing good-naturedly with the rest of them.  _ Both of them alive, present, their lives free of the tarnished consequences her actions had borne of them. The countless others that would still be alive and kicking today had it not been for her recklessness, her selfishness, her stupidity…

A couple of shots wouldn’t take all of that away. But it was all she had (all she could afford to pay for, really, from the money she’d stolen from past-Daisy’s van –  _ sorry, past-Daisy _ , _ but you and I both knew we wouldn’t be coming back to that van),  _ so the best she could do was sip at what she was given and hope she wouldn’t drown in her ghosts again. 

The door to the bar tinkled, and both Daisy and the bartender playing Galaga at the machine in the corner turned to look, squinting when the sunlight pierced into the hazy darkness of its interior. At first, she paid it no mind; who was she to judge other people on their drinking habits when she was trying to get drunk in the middle of the goddamn day? 

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Daniel,” He would save her – as loathe as Daisy was to admit that she needed anyone to save her, Sousa had proved to be one of the few people that would pick her up after she’d run into the wall, no judgment. “Christ, I missed you so much.” Was she using religious terminology now? Maybe those beers had hit a little harder than she’d thought – or worse, she’d already crested the hill of her drinking abilities. (Elena would have a  _ field day  _ the next time they saw each other.) 

Sousa just chuckled in his nonplussed way (nothing ever did faze him, not even finding his girlfriend half in the tank at three in the afternoon. Or whatever time it was; time was a construct, anyways) before sliding next to her in the booth, nudging her hip a little. The expression on his face, however, was from nonplussed. “You okay, Daisy? You know we just saw you a while ago.” 

She waved a hand. “’m peachy. Just peachy.” A couple more beers and another internal crisis or two and she’d be good to go. Daisy squinted at the bar, where another figure was animatedly chatting with the bartender. Was that...was that Kora? _ Christ.  _ “I should be asking if  _ you’re  _ okay, honestly.” 

“Why would you need to ask if we’re okay?”

“I mean.” Daisy gestured wildly at the empty bar around her. “I’m assuming you just saw 2016 me get pissed at a dude with a flaming skull before quaking off my shattered little body,” she said, and when Sousa didn’t answer, she took it as confirmation and kept going. “You’ve got questions, I’m sure.”

Sousa shrugged. “Nothing I already don’t know,” he said plainly, reaching to gently move the bottle of beer in Daisy’s grasp away. “You’ve told us about Ghost Rider, remember? And what happened around then. I didn’t think any less of you then, and I certainly don’t think any less of you now,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s a damn shame Lincoln Campbell died, but that he took control of his destiny isn’t something that you should blame yourself for.” 

“But it was  _ because  _ of me that he died,” she said, and she’d sworn she’d made this argument before, argued with faceless figures and her inner demons time and time again. How had they not had this conversation before? “Everyone dies because of me.  _ Everyone _ .” 

“I’m sure that’s not –”

“Coulson died because I sought out the Ghost Rider, which led him to taking ownership of the Ghost Rider.” Daisy held up a finger. “May died the second time because I convinced her that there was a shred of Coulson in Sarge, and if she could just  _ get  _ to that shred –” She swallowed, fighting back against the lump in her throat. “Fitz died because of the rubble that was my fight with Talbot. Trip died because he stepped into the temple to try and protect me.” She laughed then, an embittered cackle that caused the bartender and Kora to look over in their direction, though neither made a move. “It’s a goddamn miracle Jemma, Mack and Elena haven’t died yet because of me, and honestly, if you two stick around me any longer, there’s a good chance you might, too. Because everyone  _ dies,  _ Daniel.” Swimming brown eyes met his. “I thought I was done when we went to space. Everyone was finally at peace. I could be happy. But everything isn’t right.” She snorted, and a tear splashed onto the table. “I’ve just been lucky.” 

She wouldn’t tell him to leave – doing so might break him as much as it did her. But at best, she could give him a warning, some kind of sign – so that his second death would be as unexpected to the both of them as everyone else’s had been to her. 

“You know, technically, you’re the one that  _ saved  _ me from dying,” Sousa said lightly, reaching to play with a few of her fingers. “Not just that first time at the Roosevelt. But when we got captured by Malick, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t have gotten out of there if you hadn’t handed me the shard. So really, some people get saved because of you. And I don’t know about the people you’ve saved in your past –” he had a lot of reading to do, it seemed – “but I’d wager they’re out there, living their best lives because you were the one to save them.” 

“That’s hero shit,” Daisy mumbled. “’m not a hero.” 

“Not everyone has to be,” he shrugged. “Some people can just do good and call it that. And Daisy – I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not going anywhere.” She looked up at him. “I died once, technically. And I’m not itching to do it again anytime soon, if you know what I mean.” He reached and pulled her close, settling her into his side while running an absent hand over her hair. “It’ll take a lot to get rid of me.” 

A small grin quirked up the side of Daisy’s face. “I keep forgetting you haven’t seen what I’m like after a  _ Star Wars  _ marathon.” 

“Touche.” He kissed the top of her head. “Some things I wouldn’t miss for the world.” 

The ghosts are abated, at least for now, smothered by the blanket that is Sousa’s tenacity and stoic presence of present-ness. They’ll come back to haunt her, Daisy’s sure, but she’s got two figures in her life that, after all of the death she’s been through, have cemented themselves here to stay. So she’ll take the moment, savor the presences she’s in, make memories with those she has now and carry on the memories of those she doesn’t. 

And when their drinks are finished and they’ve found a way to get themselves back to Zephyr Three, she’ll take another moment to tell Sousa about  _ all  _ of the ghosts in her life – just so that the next time they inevitably end up time-traveling, he won’t have to pull her out of another bar. 


End file.
